


My Ocean

by Thedeanasaur



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thedeanasaur/pseuds/Thedeanasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their minds are like an ocean with no surface. Too much water to access the air and their true potential. So they create a bubble. Where they can survive in their ocean of fluff, their dull little lives, surrounded by meaningless trivia. But not John. He hasn't accepted his inability to surface. He hasn't created his bubble. In amongst the uncountable amount of ocean he has collected, he swims with so much life, even I am captivated. I can't get him out of my mind. He is becoming my ocean. JOHNLOCK-in high school! The story of Sherlock falling for John</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Ocean

I grab my bag out of the boot and close it quietly. I cross the road and enter through the extremely large but strangely un-oppressive gates of the school. They are glass gates with a cream frame. Not the type of gates you would expect from a sort of prison now, would you? They're too transparent. Too open. It's like they're designed to lure you into a trap. You pass through those gates and you are stuck with imbeciles for the next 7 hours. Its similar to the Darlingtonia plant. It, too, has a very attractive-looking gate. Its tunnel-like shape is spotted with the illusion of windows in order to lure the unsuspecting insect. To keep it under false pretences of getting out alive. To eventually drain the innocent creature of all its life and dreams, of its individuality and mind. In fact, it's exactly like school.   
They coax you in using words like 'best facilities in the state', and 'great, well-rounded education'. Well, if 'well rounded' to you, is a massacre of trivial fluff, then they're right and you will be happy here knowing that that is what you will receive. If not, then like me, you too, have been lured in to society's endless bout of cruel judgement, social hierarchy and ludicrous ideals. 

Congratulations.

As usual, the school is already ridiculously crowded. The pretty girls talk to the pretty men. The not-so-pretty girls talk to each other about other realities, magic and creativity. The not-so-pretty guys talk to each other about their brand new games and their online lives. It's so dull. Even the almost intelligent ones don't see what I see. They don't see the blankness and the dullness behind everything. The repetitiveness of our lives. They are excited by the smallest of things. They squawk and talk like parrots repeating secrets and rumours. Like little ants rushing around in their own busy little world. I watch them. They amuse me. 

I quietly make my way behind my classroom. This is my space. Where no one else goes. Where, even if only for a little while, I can escape from the pool of routine and the ocean of suffocating. I sit down against the hard wall of the class room and watch the people on the basket ball courts. Of course, no one actually plays basket ball. The courts are used as a meeting place for before school. It is exactly like every other day, Jane slept with Darcy last night and is now sucking up to her boyfriend, who apparently hasn't noticed. I would have thought the large splodge of make up on her neck, most likely hiding a hickey, would have been obvious to a hedgehog. Darcy's girlfriend, Amy seemingly has noticed (I was right, a hedgehog did notice) and she's upset but there's something else. She's worried, she's nervous. Possibly about family issues-no doubt it, she has her father wrapped around her finger. More likely something at school is bothering her, probably not her boyfriend as she has had three times as many flings as he has, more likely something to do with her classes. Maybe a test? Very likely, as she has the brain of a peanut, speaking of peanuts, her best friend Charlie is also looking worried. The only class they share is music and alas, they have a music test. As I said, incredibly dull. I flick my fringe out of my eyes and as I do, I see someone standing there. Blonde hair, shoulders slightly slouched indicating that he's been therefore a while, however his muscles are tense meaning he's cold. Why would he stand there for so long if he was cold? Is it an interest- no he's facing the opposite direction to the courts. Other possibility is shock, why would he be staring at me in shock? Unless-

" er-" he interrupts . I register the look of bewilderment on his face. He has such an interesting face too, brown eyes, pale skin and slight, smile wrinkles on his cheeks. " How did you know all that stuff?"

"What are you talking about?" I imagine that my face reflects his at this moment. I didn't say it aloud did I? 

"What you said about Jane and Darcy and m-" he stutters " me?" 

I stare at him blankly for a long while hoping I have miss-heard. I didn't realise that I had been muttering aloud. No, apparently not. I roll my eyes and stand up. I am about a head taller than him but I am twice as skinny. "I observed it. I don't expect you to understand. I'm Sherlock. And you are? I have tried to remember every face in this school of ours and I must confess, I thought I had achieved it." 

"John, John Watson. I new here." A smile creeps on his face and his faint wrinkles hug his mouth. "Well it's bloody brilliant! How could you see all that from so far away?"

I smirk, usually people just think I'm guessing or obnoxious. I open my mouth to speak, but I can't. His smile is still etched on his face. So happy, so free. The bell rings and I turn away successfully hiding my blush. "I have to go." 

His smile disappears instantly and a small frown appears. "Right sure." He walks away slowly around the corner. I pick up my bag and head to my next class, Music. And according to Jane and Charlie's face, I have a test.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


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